


get hold of the sweet spot by the scruff of your knee socks

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fingering, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Smut, and harry's shirt, excessive use of the 'fuck' word, harry comes on louis' ass, literally no plot at all, lots of rimming, louis cries, louis in knee socks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right, so, Louis is wearing his shirt, probably nothing underneath, and—</p><p>“Lou—are—Christ—are those knee socks?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	get hold of the sweet spot by the scruff of your knee socks

**Author's Note:**

> This is all I can think about when I hear 'Knee Socks' by Arctic Monkeys. So.
> 
> I own nothing and am (sadly) in no way affiliated with One Direction.

Harry wakes to the sound of birds outside and groans. Fucking _birds_.  Don’t they know he was out late last night?  He rolls over, intending to mold himself to his boyfriend’s back, but the bed’s empty.  Which, okay. Weird.  Louis is usually still fast asleep when Harry wakes up. He blinks his eyes open to peer at the clock and, _okay_ , it’s 11:30. That would explain why Louis’ already up and about.  Whoops.

 

He groans again, accompanied by a good stretch this time, and rolls out of bed.  He goes for a piss, brushes his teeth, throws some jogging pants on, and makes his way out to the kitchen where he can hear Louis puttering about. Harry can’t help but smile fondly at the sound of Louis humming softly as he makes his tea. It’s definitely among his top five favorite sounds.

 

When he gets to the kitchen, he stops dead in his tracks and can’t help the quiet moan that escapes him.  Louis is leaning over the counter with his ass sticking out, one knee popped, the ridiculous curve of his back still visible under his shirt.  _Harry’s_ shirt.  The pale blue Lacoste button up he had worn out last night. It barely falls past where the curve of his ass meets his thighs and there’s no _way_ he’s wearing anything underneath.

 

Right, so, Louis is wearing his shirt, probably nothing underneath, and—

 

“Lou—are— _Christ_ —are those knee socks?”

 

Louis finally looks over his shoulder then, smirks a little bit, and _god_ , Harry’s quite sure he’s never seen anything sexier in his entire life.  The socks are a light cream color, barely coming up over the tops of Louis’ knees, and the way they look against his smooth, golden skin is fucking obscene.  Harry kind of wants to come on them.

 

“Very observant, Harold,” Louis says, teasing, but Harry can see the slight blush on his cheeks, like he’s worried that Harry wouldn’t like them.  As if Harry isn’t going to use the image of Louis in fucking _knee socks_ as wanking material the next time he’s in LA, and the time after that, and probably the rest of his fucking life.  He wonders how long Louis’ had them, how many sets he has, where he’s been hiding them.

 

The kettle goes off then, and Louis turns back to open the cabinet and lets out a frustrated huff when he sees that Harry’s ‘accidentally’ put his favorite mug on the very top shelf, _again_. (Louis on his tippy toes is just so _cute_ , okay?)  Louis rises up on his toes, his calves accentuated in his socks, and Harry’s pretty sure he’s actually drooling. When Louis reaches his right arm up to grab the cup, the shirt rides up a little and, okay, _definitely_ not wearing anything underneath.

 

He crowds up behind Louis, his already half-hard cock nestled against his ass, one hand gripping his hip and the other reaching up to help Louis get the cup.  He noses into Louis’ hair, behind his ear, opens his mouth to tell him that he’s got it, but what comes out of his mouth instead is a groan and _my shampoo._

 

When Louis responds with a quiet _mmm, wanted to smell like you_ , Harry grabs his hand where it’s still reaching for the cup and brings it back down to the counter. He closes the cabinet and spins Louis around to face him, taking a step back so he can fully appreciate the view.  And _god,_ what a view.  He trails his eyes up from Louis’ feet, over his knees, lingers on the expanse of tan, smooth skin visible between the tops of his socks and the hem of his shirt, up his torso to where the top few buttons of the Lacoste are undone and his chest tattoo is peeking out, the dip of his collarbones, finally landing on his face.  His cheeks are flushed, his perfect pink mouth partially open, eyes bright and so, so blue, even with his pupils slightly blown out, and his fringe lays undone against his forehead, still damp from his shower.  He looks so soft and touchable and like the most beautiful thing Harry’s ever seen.

 

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry says, stepping back into Louis’ space, wrapping his arms around to grab Louis’ bum, reveling in the soft keening noise he gets in response.  “Fuck, you look so fucking hot, Lou, so beautiful, can’t believe you’re all mine.”

 

Louis wraps his arms around his neck and leans in to kiss the birds inked into his chest, murmurs _yours_ , _always yours_ as he mouths his way up Harry’s neck, underneath his jaw.  When his lips finally land on Harry’s, they both let out contented sighs.  They kiss lazily for a minute until Harry starts kneading Louis’ ass, causing Louis to moan and lick hotly into Harry’s mouth.  He spreads his legs a bit, and Harry takes the opportunity to grind his groin into Louis’, groaning at the friction and the feel of Louis’ half-hard cock against his thigh.  He plants one last kiss to Louis’ lips and untangles himself from Louis, who whimpers at the loss.

 

“Turn around, babe,” he says, and Louis does, resting his forearms on the countertop and sticking his ass out.  Harry wedges a foot in between Louis’, kicks his legs apart, and rucks his shirt up to the top of his ass.  He leans over Louis, molds himself around him, kisses his neck and grinds against his ass before dropping to his knees behind him.

 

He grabs a cheek in each hand, massaging and kneading for a moment, before bringing his hand back and giving the right cheek a good smack.  Louis whimpers and drops his head onto his arms.  Harry leans down and kisses right at the top of one of the socks, sucks a bruise there, and kisses his way up Louis’ leg.  He pays special attention to where his thigh meets the curve of his ass, nibbling and sucking and licking until Louis whines and wiggles his ass back a little bit, reminding Harry of where he really wants the attention.

 

Harry spreads his him apart and leans in to kiss right next to his hole, one on each side, before licking a broad stripe all the way from his balls to the top of his crack.  He does it again, alternates between that and little licks and kisses to his hole, until Louis’ whining and telling Harry to _stop being a fucking tease and get on with it already_.

 

So Harry does, he kisses and licks at Louis’ rim, swirling his tongue around his entrance before spreading him farther apart with his thumbs.  He stops for a moment, letting the heavy scent of soap and sweat and _Louis_ take over his senses, before going back in to lick slowly and deliberately over his hole again and again.

 

“God, Harry, _please,_ ” Louis says between jagged breaths, “ _please_ , I need—”

 

“What d’ya need Lou?”

 

“ _More,_ Harry, I—ahhh— _more.”_

When Harry finally presses the tip of his tongue inside, Louis lets out a _fuck, yes_ and grinds back against Harry’s mouth.  Harry starts to slowly fuck his tongue into Louis, an easy rhythm, while still sucking on his rim a little bit.  He hums a little and feels Louis’ body jerk in response, hears his choked off sob, and Harry has to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment and focus on not coming in his pants right then.  He _loves_ this, fucking loves being this close to Louis, making him fall apart, being the only one who gets to do it.  

 

He pushes his tongue in deeper, before pulling it out to circle his rim.  Louis is whining and letting out a stream of nonsense between quiet sobs, _fuck_ and _more_ and _harryharryharry_ , so Harry buries his face in closer, gets his tongue back inside and wiggles it around a bit. Louis is tight and hot around his tongue, and his dick twitches at the thought of being inside him.

 

He pulls back to lick from his balls to the top of his crack again, and Louis spreads his legs even wider, begging for more. This time, when he gets his tongue back in, he adds a finger along side it.  Louis’ back arches and he’s openly crying now, breathing heavily between choked sobs, and Harry finally gives in and reaches for his own neglected cock.  He fucks his finger in and out of Louis, still licking and kissing his rim, and Louis’ thighs are trembling.

 

When he adds a second finger, Louis’ back arches so far that he comes up off his forearms and slams his hands into the cabinets in front of him; Harry’s name pouring from his lips like a prayer. He’s grinding back, fucking himself on Harry’s fingers, and Harry bites the inside of his thigh, sucks a bruise there.  When Harry curls his fingers _just_ so and hits his spot, Louis cries out and his whole body shudders.  He strokes over it again and again, licking at his rim, and he can tell Louis is close.  He lets go of his own cock and reaches his hand around to take Louis in hand, thumbing over the head, gathering the precum there before wrapping his hand around and stroking. 

 

“Harry—gonna— _fuck,_ ” and Louis’ coming over Harry’s hand, his shirt, and the floor, sobbing. Harry removes his fingers but licks him through it, keeps licking until Louis’ begging him to stop because it’s _too much_. 

 

He places a final kiss to Louis’ rim and then stands up, shoves his pants down and gets his hand, still covered in Louis’ come, back on his dick.  He strokes one, two, three times before he’s coming all over Louis’ ass, watches as Louis shudders, the way it drips down his crack, over his balls and onto his thighs, some of it landing on his lower back and pooling in the dimples there. _Fuck._

“Fuck.”

 

He grabs Louis by the waist and spins him around and— _fuck._  

 

Louis’ eyes are glassy, his cheeks tear-stained and his lips bitten red.  Harry sinks down to the floor, pulling Louis with him.  Louis cuddles into his chest and Harry wraps his arms around him.

“So pretty like this, Lou, love you so much,” he says, peppering kisses into Louis’ hair and brushing away the wetness on his cheeks.

 

“Love you too, Haz, you’re so good,” Louis says softly, nuzzling in closer to Harry’s chest.  “Think I’m gonna need another shower, though.”

 

“Mmmm, I’ll join you, but how about that tea first.”

**Author's Note:**

> whoa. endings are hard. anyway, thanks for reading! kudos/comments are neat. you can find me on tumblr by the same name (:


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